


You Gotta Know (You're Wanted)

by blackorchids



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Body Image, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Insecurity, M/M, Semi-Closed Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 23:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/pseuds/blackorchids
Summary: When Joe skips lunch with the lads, it's up to Caspar to figure out why. And maybe make him feel better, too.





	You Gotta Know (You're Wanted)

**Author's Note:**

> this,,, was a prompt from,,, months ago. literally i am SO sorry.
> 
> title from the first verse of hunter hayes' _wanted_

When Caspar finally lopes into the restaurant, fifteen minutes late and with Josh’s neck in a lazy headlock, the first thing he notices is that Joe’s not there, sitting amongst their friends and holding court in that effortless way of his.

To Josh’s credit, the ribbing from Jack and Mikey once they notice Caspar’s managed to best him, could have distracted him enough that he wouldn’t notice _immediately_ that Joe’s missing, but Caspar’s been totally aware of Joe’s presence for years at this point, and he’s a professional, he knows how to hold a crowd’s attention and he knows how to improvise, but he’s always been at his best with Joe at his side.

They have their drinks in front of them before Josh looks around and wonders aloud, “Where’s Joe at, then?”

Grateful enough that he’s for once not the one asking, Caspar looks around at his mates for someone to have the answer. 

Byron is the one that slurps at his margarita and says, “He told me he was having a lazy day of editing this week’s video.”

No one thinks that’s odd at all, except that it’s _Sugg Sunday_ , and there’s no way Joe doesn’t have a video already edited and set to be uploaded promptly on time. They’re youtuber powerhouses for a reason, and that reason is consistency, according to Joe and their shared manager.

So lunch happens, and Caspar cracks a few good jokes for Jack’s vlogging camera, defends Mikey on two separate occasions just to rile everyone else up even more. It’s easy and fun and Caspar misses hanging out as a group when they go too long on their own separate projects or holidays. But when they’ve finished mixing up their credit cards and strong-arming Jack into paying after his card is picked, Caspar’s feeling pretty pleased about having gotten Byron to volunteer to show Josh something with a new editing software he’s been trying out, and Caspar is free to take an Uber to Joe’s without too many knowing looks.

It’s habit to give the uber driver the address of the small bakery up the street of Joe’s building, knows better than to share an address that would make some money if it were released, knows better than to publicize just how often he really does visit.

While he’s at it, he picks up one of Joe’s favorite breakfast croissants for good measure, and then makes his way down the road towards Joe’s building, using his own keycard and then his own key to get through the atrium and inside the front door.

“Joe?” Caspar calls out, pitching his voice so that he sounds casual and friendly. “You missed lunch with the lads, so I brought you something to eat.”

There’s no response, and Joe’s not in any of his usual spots downstairs: bickering with his google home in the kitchen, losing at Fortnight in the lounge, or setting traps in Byron’s room, so Caspar shrugs off his jacket and leaves the croissant on the countertop and then hikes up the stairs, stepping over the green mask and the pile of fake rats on the way up.

“Joe?” Caspar asks as he makes his way towards the end of the hall. “Buddy, where are you?”

“Hiding,” comes Joe’s semi-whiney voice from his bedroom, and Caspar stops half-heartedly looking in the office and the music room and everywhere else. Joe’s room is dim from mostly-drawn curtains, and his room is empty save for a lump beneath a familiar plush white duvet.

“Well I guess Joe’s not home,” Caspar says loudly, but instead of leaping on top of the Joe-lump like he’s tempted to, he lifts up a corner of the duvet at the foot of the bed and worms his way underneath, wiggling and flopping around so much that the bed shakes in his effort to get his face up to where Joe’s is until they’re nose to nose and Joe’s grudgingly smiling, just a little.

“What’s up, buddy?” Caspar asks, reaching out to skim his fingers down Joe’s ribs the way he likes. 

Joe’s small smile fades at the question and he suddenly won’t meet Caspar’s gaze, grunting with the effort to turn around so his back is to Caspar without kicking the blanket off the pair of them.

“Why’d you come over, Caspar?” he asks and Caspar frowns at the back of Joe’s head.

“Because you didn’t come to lunch,” he tells Joe, unapologetic. “And I missed you.”

“I’m just busy editing,” Joe says, and it would be unconvincing even if they weren’t currently hiding under a cover in a darkened room.

“Jack and Josh are gonna do youtuber innuendo bingo for a video soon,” Caspar says conversationally, instead of trying to unpack what Joe wants to keep boxed up.

“Clever of them,” Joe says.

“Whoever thought of that idea was a real genius,” Caspar agrees, and Joe doesn’t reply, but he does leverage his hand behind him so it’s between the pair of them. Caspar takes the invitation for what it is and laces his fingers through Joe’s and holds on tight.

Caspar keeps up a running commentary of all of their friends, describes what everyone said and what everyone ate in appalling detail, lets Joe laugh quietly at each punchline of each joke until he runs out of things to say and Joe lets go of Caspar’s hand so he can turn back around.

“Hi,” Caspar whispers when they’re face to face again, and he’s getting a little warm under the duvet, but Joe’s clearly not ready to emerge, so he holds his tongue and instead leans forward to bump his nose against Joe’s, like an affectionate puppy, as Alfie says.

“No kiss?” Joe asks, and there’s something odd in his tone. Bad-odd, Caspar thinks, and he’s not sure taking what is obviously a dare is the smartest thing to do, but he doesn’t think there’s a right answer to Joe’s question. He might be missing something.

“Only if you want me to,” Caspar hedges, and Joe huffs, frustrated and annoyed for reasons still a mystery.

“Obviously I want you to kiss me, Caspar,” Joe says, but he still sounds strangely irritated. “That’s never been the issue.”

It takes a second to parse that out. “Are you—are you honestly accusing me of _not_ wanting to kiss you?” Caspar demands incredulously, and his voice seems too loud for their little hideaway. “Has that _ever_ been an issue?”

Joe looks ready for a fight, but Caspar’s not sure he wants to take the bait.

“I always want to kiss you,” Caspar says frankly, keeping his gaze even so Joe knows he’s not faffing about.

“I can’t imagine why,” Joe mutters, and he looks like he’s ready to turn over again, so Caspar sits up, simultaneously relieved at the sudden burst of fresh, cooler air and a little guilty for destroying their little cocoon before Joe was ready to.

“It would be easier for me to argue with you if I knew what you were upset about,” Caspar says in his best diplomatic voice. The sentence is practically a soundbite from his mother and her healthy communication books she’d gotten into around the time she’d started dating his step-dad.

“It would be easier for me to tell you if you looked stupid too,” Joe says under his breath and, quite abruptly, Caspar thinks he’s finally catching on to what might be the problem.

He doesn’t even say anything, just twists around and riffles through the end drawer for some sort of prop or mask. All he comes up with is a green sharpie from some sort of points-keeping game he assumes Joe has filmed at some point.

“What are you doing?” Joe asks, clearly torn between staying peeved and giving into curiosity the longer Caspar goes without turning around. Caspar, for his part, appreciates that being unable to see his handiwork probably adds to the effect, and when he finally puts the cap back on the sharpie, he can already feel the ink drying stickily.

“Caspar, what’re—oh, Christ.” Joe takes in the curly mustache and the probably very lopsided monocle for a long time before sighing and looking down at his hands, looking even more annoyed.

“You are the—absolute _worst_ ,” Joe mutters to his open palms. He doesn’t sound like he means it. He’s clearly figured out that Caspar has discovered the quote unquote problem, and Caspar would bet most things that he’s relieved about not having to say it, because Joe’s still just a little too laddish to be vocally upset about his skin.

“I _always_ want to kiss you, Joe,” Caspar says again after they sit next to each other in the bed in silence for a while. He’s trying to sound more meaningful than his words might suggest, and when Joe looks up sharply, he knows he’s managed. “Do you—do you still want to kiss me?”

Joe lets out another annoyed little huff of air, but that grudging little smile is curling at the edge of his mouth again, and Caspar can feel something inside his stomach unclench in relief: that he managed to get past this landmine, that Joe can push away his insecurities for a while again, that they’re still Joe-and-Caspar.

“ _Obviously_ , you enormous dork,” Joe says, still fighting to sound irritated, for propriety's sake, Caspar assumes.

*

Later, when they separate at the sound of Byron coming home downstairs, Joe rolls his eyes when he focuses his gaze on Caspar’s artwork again. “You can wash that off now, Caspar,” he says, getting up to pull his shirt back on. “I’m all fixed, or whatever.”

Caspar can’t help the sheepish grin that he can feel pulling at his mouth, and roots around through the sheets for a second before he comes up with the green sharpie, clutched triumphantly in his fist. “It might be here for a few days.”

Joe looks like he wants to call Caspar an enormous dork again. Luckily, that expression usually means Caspar’s going to get kissed again.

He’s right.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm too embarrassed by this wait to ask for more prompts, but here's my [tumblr](http://www.rosalinesbenvolio.tumblr.com) if you wanna yell


End file.
